Chronicle of a Disaster
My mom needs to sign up for Facebook in order to access something or other for an upcoming college reunion. I have assisted her in this task, even though she claims to want no part of anything beyond access to that information. By nightfall, one of the following things will happen:
1. She will change her mind. Dorree from Raquette Lake says hi!
2. My phone will chime repeatedly with questions about de-re-untagging photos and the hurt-feelings potential implicit in Obama-Is-The-Bogeyman “advocacy” pages.
3. One particular relative will get pissy when mom doesn’t accept his/her friend request. Mom will feel guilty about this and make an exception to her stay-above-it-all vow. In doing so, she will unwittingly fling open hell’s trap door.
I’ve got my money on numbers 2 and 3. For now, however, the Internet still appears to be working. Updates throughout the day as events warrant.
UPDATE (9:37 a.m. ET): Sign-up has been confirmed. “Sounds fairly easy with the real likelihood that I won’t screw up.” Outside my window, frogs are raining down from the heavens above.
UPDATE (10:42 a.m. ET): The storm clouds gather: “I confirmed the account but didn’t log on with my e-mail password. There were a whole bunch of potential ‘friends’ below but I just ignored. Right move?” Yes. Yes, it was.
UPDATE (12:34 p.m. ET): All is quiet… a little TOO quiet, if you ask me.
UPDATE (2:11 p.m. ET): Yes, my mom is aware that her son loves her very, very much. Why do you ask?
